


15x03 coda

by JumpToConclusions



Series: destiel rights [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: (more like hopeful but whatever), Angst with a Happy Ending, Coda, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Season/Series 15 Spoilers, bc i said so thats why, cas comes back, church, late coda to 15x03, they make up, very very very
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-07 13:10:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21458593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JumpToConclusions/pseuds/JumpToConclusions
Summary: (I’m @ing our resident emotionally driven asshole)What just happened.The door shuts -it doesn’t slam, but shuts-(which is somehow worse)and then Dean is alone and oh god what just happened?It’s time for me to move on.(Dean did this- he did this.)No- No. Cas is the one that left. Cas didn’t want to fix it.(Cas tried to fix it. He did. He tried to talk. This is Dean’s fault. Dean’s fault.)Fuck Cas. Fuck him. He left. He didn’t try hard enough.(Cas tried, he tried. And Dean sent him into the mouth of hell. And blamed him for Mom. And Rowena.)His eyes are watering(totally from how hard he’s tensing his arms, not from the fact that the one person that promised to never leave is gone).Everyone you’ve ever known, everyone you’ve ever loved; they could be long dead. Everyone except me.Guess Cas fucked that up too.
Relationships: (only implied... she's dead), Castiel/Dean Winchester, Destiel, Rowena MacLeod/Sam Winchester
Series: destiel rights [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1517954
Comments: 1
Kudos: 103





	15x03 coda

What just happened. 

The door shuts -it doesn’t slam, but shuts- _(which is somehow worse)_ and then Dean is alone and oh god what just happened?

**It’s time for me to move on**.

_(Dean did this- he did this.)_

No- No. Cas is the one that left. Cas didn’t want to fix it. _(Cas tried to fix it. He did. He tried to talk. This is Dean’s fault. Dean’s fault.)_

Fuck Cas. Fuck him. He left. He didn’t try hard enough. _(Cas tried, he tried. And Dean sent him into the mouth of hell. And blamed him for Mom. And Rowena.)_

His eyes are watering _(totally from how hard he’s tensing his arms, not from the fact that the one person that promised to never leave is gone)._

**Everyone you’ve ever known, everyone you’ve ever loved; they could be long dead. Everyone except me.**

He wants to take a swig of his beer, but he doesn’t want to move. Cas left and now he can’t move. This is all Cas’s- _Castiel’s_ fault. How could he leave him. How could he do this. _(Dean pushed him away. He pushed him away. He blamed him and beat on him and threw words he would never say to anyone else in a thousand years in his direction and Cas didn’t fight. He took the hit. He kept trying to fix it. Because he thought Dean was the right choice for so long. And now he doesn’t.)_

**We are. We are. We are.**

Good. Fuck him. He doesn’t want to stay here he doesn’t have to. Bye Bye Castiel! Terrible _(good)_ knowing you. One less problem for Dean to deal with. Like that ninety-nine problems song. _(He should have gone after him. He should have taken the stairs two at a time and flung open that ironcast door and stood in the rain like a damn chick-flick, and begged Cas to come home. Not to leave him. That he’s sorry. That he’s just grieving and mad and Cas is so much stronger than him, that he’s the kinda guy Dean can scratch at and hit his fists against like a petulant child and still be there. Because he’s Cas. He was always gonna be there, in the end. Him and Cas [and Sam]. Till the end- till the END.)_ __

_ __ _

Guess Castiel fucked that plan up, too. _(Dean destroyed this. He stomped on it and ground his heel over the trust and the bound and the lo-)_Angels; the lot of them; all they ever do is fuck up. 

Dean sits in the closest chair, because he feels like it. _(Not because his knees are weak.)_ And puts his head in his hands, because he has a migraine. _(Not because his eyes are wet.)_And starts bouncing his leg, because he’s anxious over the next big bad. _(Not because his body wanted to move for him. Go to him. Be with him.)_

-

Sam finds Dean with his forehead between his thumb and index finger, leaned on the library table. 

His beer is… not within arms reach, which isn’t normal. 

“Dean? You ok?” Sam asks, even though he’s the one grieving. Every single woman he cares about dies. He’s the one that should be drinking and crying- Dean’s eyes are wet. Abnormally so. And he’s staring at a fixed point on the bunker wall. Equally as abnormally. 

“What’s up?” Sam decides is the best thing to ask, slowly, cautiously. He glances around the room and leans to peer into the War room. 

Dean closes his eyes and squeezes the bridge of his nose. 

“Dean?” Sam raises his eyebrows, trying to get a hint from the look on his brother’s face.

“Cas left.”

“Where too?” Sam asks, slowly again, his eyebrows pressed together. 

“Fuck if I know. Away. For good. He’s _moving on_.” Dean huffs, stretching across the table for his beer. “And you know what? Good. fuck him. He got Mom killed, he fucked up the plan. Fuck. Him.”__

_ __ _

__

Sam opens his mouth. Then closes it. Then opens it again. Then closes it. Then lets out a huff and flutters his eyelashes. “And you didn’t feel the need to stop him?”  
“He’s a grown ass Angel, Sammy. He can make his own goddamn decisions.”

“Dean.” Sam scoffs. “I can’t do this. Not right now. Call him.”

“What? No. He left.”

“Call him or don’t,” Sam scoffs, completely done. “Mom’s dead. Jack’s dead. Rowena’s dead. Fuck, even Ketch is dead- we have no one, and he’s done so much for you. You can’t just let someone like that walk away.” He shakes his head and tries not to stomp out of the room. “Or, knowing you, you will. And I guess you’ll just be miserable.” 

-

Sam is definitely avoiding him. And for someone who’s had to sneak around to survive all his life, he’s not very good.

But he’s good enough that Dean _(trying desperately to prove that he doesn’t need Cas by stomping through his ‘in the bunker’ daily routine)_ feels like he’s been abandoned by everyone who cares for _(loves)_ him.

Or cared _(loved)_.

It’s nearly dark outside _(he had to get out of the bunker. Out of their home.)_ and Dean is driving too fast and has been for too long. He’s gonna end up in a cell for disturbing the peace in Lebanon. (He’s totally not hoping he’ll see Cas at the motel or the trailer park in town. He’s totally not hoping he’ll catch a glimpse of trench coat.) But he can’t go home yet. _(Can’t face a third night knowing Cas isn’t coming home.)_

He pulls into the Catholic church parking lot and puts Baby in park. _(Why did he pick a church? God why did he pick a church.) _

The door creaks as he slams it, his keys jingle in his pocket as he climbs the steps, and the big wooden door opens with a groan. 

The lights are on, there’s a priest by the alter, and there’s a woman reading in a pew. 

It’s not a fancy church, like in movies; but it’s got a high, arching ceiling and windows with angels _(Cas. Cas. Cas.)_ stained on, and Jesus is in his place carved on the big wood cross. 

Dean sits in a back pew and let's his head drop back. _(God is real and he’s an asshole who’s played Dean his entire life. Angels are real and a good chunk of them are dicks. Demons are real and fuck them. Lucifer’s real and he had a son that Dean loved and that killed his mother-)_

“Do you mind if I sit?” The priest less asks and more states. Dean scooches over at the order and waves his hand in what he hopes is an appealing manner. The priest only looks at him for a moment before complying.

He’s a short and lean man with greying blonde hair and fading green eyes. He looks like he might have been handsome before age stole his grace. “What brings you hear, Mr. Campbell?” 

Dean glances over, an eyebrow raised. “We met?”

The priest’s lips pull up in a small, amused smile. “No, but most in this town recognize you.”

Dean tears his eyes from the understanding look on the man’s pale face. 

“So, will you answer my question? Or should I go back to planning my sermon?”

Dean lets out a rather dramatic breath. “There’s a few things.” He lets out honestly. “Some of them more crazy than you’ll believe.”

“I have no reason to believe you’ll be dishonest with me. Frankly, I doubt you will.” The man says. 

“What’s your name?” Dean asks.

“James Cadwell.” 

“Father Cadewell, my son killed my mother and then God killed my son.” Dean’s looking dead ahead. “Then I had to watch a demon called Belphegor walk my son’s body like a mascot costume. And then, someone who was my friend, an Angel by the way, smited the demon, fucked up the plan to save the world, and walked out of my life.”  
Father Cadwell doesn’t seem all too phased. “None of these are metaphors, are they, My Child?”

Dean lets out a scoff that trails off into a laugh, “I fucking wish.”

“And the Angel’s name?”

Dean has to drop his eyes shut _(ow ow ow ow ow)_ , “Castiel.” 

He doesn’t seem too shocked at that one, either. “Cassiel, speed of god, Angel of solitude and tears. She’s Angel to The Righteous Man.” He’s nodding like he’s just recalling an everyday fact.

Dean has to pause that conversation, “you’re not… skeptical?”

“I’ve met hunters before, Child.” He sighs out, “and God is cruel. He designs this maze for us to run and sets traps along the way; hoping we, the mice, will fall in and squirm.”  
Dean gulps. “He- Cas, he… I blamed him, for my mom’s death.” He shakes his head, “I was just so mad.”

“Why don’t you talk to them?”

“He told me he was done. He gave up on us. All of us.”

“Maybe you should try to make them listen. The Angel.” Cadwell advises, “just talk. Lay it out; tell them everything you need to say, make their importance to you clear, and then you’ll know you gave it your best try.”

Dean nods reluctantly. “I know I should. That’s what my brother said.” _(Sam is always right. Dean’s a dick. A dick. A fucking asshole. Takes out all his problems on the people he loves-)_

“But?”

Dean laughs. “Yeah. But. ” He scrubs a hand down his face, “I don’t know where he is. And he probably doesn’t want to see me-”

“Don’t make excuses.” Cadwell orders; not unkindly, but not kindly, either. The priest then stands, “just do. Maybe this wouldn’t have become such a problem if you just acted on what you were thinking, and not what you were feeling.”

_(What he’s thinking. What he’s thinking. Not what he’s feeling. What he’s thinking.)_

Dean watches the man walk away, his black robe swishing on the harwood beneath his shoes. 

Dean watches wax drip down the length of a candle mounted to the wall. He feels like an asshole, but Cas was a dick, so… _(He should pray to Cas. Really should. Beg him to text Dean his location so Dean can find him.)_

Thoughts. Not feelings. He casts a glance to Father Cadwell and licks his lips. Cadwell nods.

“You got your ears on?” He whispers. 

-

_“You got your ears on?”_ Comes a whisper, Cas’s eyes roll back in his head. He stumbles and catches himself on a tree. 

Cas is going to fucking cut out his grace. He just got out. He just fucking left. Two days is all he gets-

_“I’m at the church in Lebanon -the catholic one, not the methodist one. Just where Baby took me…”_ Dean’s voice trails off, _“can we talk? If you decide… If you decide your done after this you can go. I won’t even try again. I just need to say somethings. To your face. Like the grown ass man I pretend I am.”_

He _is_ like a child. This is… surprisingly adult of him. _(Or maybe it’s just mildly decent. Maybe Dean’s so awful that all Cas expects is the bare minimum.)_

_(Dean probably just misses his favorite punching bag.)_

Cas doesn’t even consider it _(only for a few moments if at all)_ and keeps walking towards the bar. He can’t get drunk, but he might as well get a drink. 

_“Don’t make me beg, Man. Just meet me, you can go after.”_

Cas shuts his eyes tight enough to make his ear drums rumble and have a shop light beside him burst. 

He’s walking towards the church _(he’s an angel, he can feel faith, annoyingly)_ before he tells his own feet not to.

-

The woman with the book is gone, and Cadwell has conveniently disappeared into a door beside the pews.

Dean is sitting in his back pew with his forehead pillowed on his arms resting over the pew in front of him. He hears the door open and glances up.

Cas sits on the vast expanse of pew beside him, perched on the edge like he’s ready to spring up and tensed like he’s ready to take or give a swing or two. 

Dean feels an automatic relief wash through him like cold water first thing in the morning. (Dean wants to grab him. Hug him. Whisper a thousand apologies.) 

A minute passes. Cas seems determined not to speak. Dean feels anger bubble in his abdomen. _(He wants to prove Cas and Sam and Cadwell wrong. Say everything he’s ever thought of saying. Fix this. For him. For Sammy.)_ “I should have went after you.” Dean says, “I shouldn’t have let this… go on so long.” 

“What. Me gaining independence in an abusive friendship?”

_(Ow)_ “No- no. I shouldn’t have let me being an asshole go on for so long. I’m sorry. Really.” He’s looking at Cas now.

**You can’t even look at me.**

Cas closes his eyes, “if this is all we’re ever going to be, ever going to do; blame, fight, blame, apologize… I don’t want to accept that apology.”

“Don’t mean to be a dick, Cas, but I kinda need you to.” Dean says, desperation leaking into his tone and smothering his words in shame.

“What about what I need?” Cas sighs. His word choose should sound demanding, condescending, angry, but his tone is soft, sad, somewhere far away.

“I’m gonna do better- I know I’ve been an ass. Really.” He feels tears flood his eyes and closes his eyes tight in retaliation. “It’s just- I just got her back. Thirty years later, I got someone who I was always told _loved_ me back. And she’s dead again.” 

Cas’s eyes trace a tear that trails down his cheek, Dean scrubs it away with the ball of his palm.

“And I’m not dealing with it. And you’re always there- you’re just so… so permanent. I guess I just figured you wouldn’t leave me, no matter what I threw at you. I could scream, and fight, and hit, and you’d just… be there.” He forcefully wipes another tear. “And I know that’s stupid, and abusive, and whatever- but you’re always there. And I’m so dependent on you it’s scary-“

Cas places a big, rough hand on Dean’s collar. His eyes scanning Dean’s face. 

“You’re the longest... anything I’ve ever had, Man. Outside of my own brother. I’m sorry I don’t really know how to…” he takes in a deep breath, “fix things. But I wanna fix this.”  
Cas’s hand travels up to Dean’s cheek, and Dean only flinches a little. 

“You’re seriously willing to change? Change the way you’ve been treating me?”

Dean nods against Cas’s palm. “You’re not dead to me. And I don’t blame you, I just didn’t want to blame myself. And I understand why you killed Belphagor, I would have too.”  
Cas’s shoulder’s droop, like they were tense with a breath he was holding. 

“Let’s go home.”

-

Cas doesn’t forgive and he doesn’t forget, either. Dean can tell. _(He shouldn’t.)_

Sam watches them climb down the stairs. “Hey, Cas.” 

He nods, standing far away from Dean. 

“I… uh… what do you two want for dinner? You eating today, Cas?”

Cas looks down at his shoes, “I… don’t have enough grace to maintain my vessel, I think I need too.”

“I’ll make something.” Dean says, “you guys go watch something- or whatever.” He adds on hastily.

Sam nods his head towards the TV room, Cas follows without a second glace towards Dean.

Dean walks into the kitchen, splashed his face with water, breathes out in a shaky relief, then sets to work.

Burgers. He can always make burgers. _(And he’ll set out a salad for Sam too, Cas’ll like that.)_ So he grabs the buns he made two days ago and onions and sugar and meat and sets to work.

Caramelized onions and BBQ sauce taste fantastic over a thick, well cooked burger. He sets out all of the fixings, flips his patties, takes his buns out of the oven, and tosses the salad one more time.

Half of the burgers have cheese and the other half don’t- he didn’t want to disturb Cas by asking what he wants. He probably wouldn’t know, anyway. _(Or is that unfair of Dean to assume? Should he have asked? He should have asked-)_

“Wow, smells great.” Sam’s leaned against the doorway. “Cas’ll be in in’a minute. That a new apron?”

Dean barks a laugh, looking down at his plaid, green, frilly apron and spinning to show off the oversized bow on the small of his back. “Mom said she thought it’d ‘suit me’.” He rolls his eyes. “Grab one. I’ll go get the dressings and sauce. 

“You made salad? You should guilt cook more often.” Sam huffs, an amused smile pulls his lips thin. 

Dean squints his eyes, “shut your damn mouth and eat your food.”

Cas has walked into the room, Dean sets out the various bottles and jar of pickles he has in his arms. “Hey, take whatever you want. You two want a beer?”

“Grab me a water?” Sam says, Dean rolls his eyes.

“I’ll take one. Thank you.”

“No problem.” Dean says truthfully. “I’ll eat whatever you two don’t grab, so don’t worry about me.”

Cas sits politely on the empty bench and takes a plate from the stack set out. Dean busies himself with removing his apron and washing his hands and grabbing the drinks. _(Do I sit next to Sam or Cas? Will that be too clingy? Should I just… I usually sit with Cas, don’t I? No? No I don’t… I sit with Sam. I want to sit with Cas- but what if that’s like smothering his independence-)_

Cas. Sit with Cas.

He does. He plops down on the bench a little ways away and pops open his beer on the bottle opener screwed to the bottom of the table. Cas peels his off.

“Dude, power move.” Dean laughs. Cas has a cheeseburger and a normal on his plate, Sam two regular, and Dean grabs two of the remaining cheeses- _(He made enough for Jack, he even left him out a plate.)_ he tries not to let his haunted thoughts cross his expression. _(Jack. Jack.)_

“Thanks Dean.” Sam says, also staring down at the extras, then smiling up at Dean with deep circles under his eyes. 

“Get some sleep, Sam. You could hold groceries in those bags.” Dean huffs, taking a bite of his burger. 

“I’ve been a little preoccupied.” Sam sighs, glaring. Dean shoves his burger in his mouth and pretends not to notice a bracelet of Rowena’s around his brother’s wrist.

The table falls into a kind of awkward silence. Cas seems to appreciate both the salad and the burgers, but says nothing.

Sam eats while trying not to look at them, looking like he doesn’t want anything to do with their drama _(read: relationship problems)_.

And Dean bounces his leg like his life might depend on it, creating a soft, constant put put put of his shoe on the linoleum flooring. 

Cas shoves another bite of his burger in his mouth. Dean tries to school the worry that he’s eternally ruined the group dynamic with his _(general assholeines)_ stupid self off his face as he takes a long drag from his bottle. 

Sam scrapes he last of his shaved carrot onto his fork, shoves his last burger down his throat, and says ‘good food, Dean’ before disappearing too fast for someone with that long of a body.

Silence follows in his hurried wake, then- 

“You made some for Jack.” Cas says, and the flood gates for conversation- one that will be emotionally draining -have been opened.

“Routine.” Dean says with a sigh. “I didn’t even think about it- not even when I used that pepper jack he likes.”

Cas’s lip corner lifts. “I miss him.”

Dean nods. “I miss the kid he was. Happy. Thoughtful. I just wish his soul didn’t…”

The both know how he was going to end his sentence, so he lets it be finished in their heads. They don’t need to say it.

“That’s not your fault either, by the way.” Dean says, not looking at Cas. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like it was.” 

Cas’s sad smile deepens. He places his fork with lettuce and a slice of cucumber down on his plate. “It’s not yours, either.”

Dean shakes his head. “Little bit. With Micheal, and all.”

Cas turns to him and shakes his head. “Don’t do that.”

“‘s just the truth. I was blaming you when I didn’t want to blame myself-“

“Dean.” Cas says, firmly. “Don’t. Do. That.”

Dean looks down, like the coward he is. “I miss him too.”

Cas nods. “We all do, and you don’t have to internationalize it. You know your inability to talk about emotions and thoughts is your most annoying character flaw?”

Dean snorts.

“But we’re all flawed. If we talk to each other, maybe those flaws won’t… lead to what they did.”

Dean nods. “We should see a therapist.” He jokes, “you think they have counseling for an angel and a human who’ve lost their half ‘n half kid?”

“We could certainly lie. Change some things.” Cas suggests.

“Ooo! I like this game.” Dean looks up, turning in his seat, “if we were both normal, boring an’ human, how would we have met?”

Cas cocks his head to the side.

“You know, like, if you weren’t an angel, and if I wasn’t a hunter, how would we have met?”

Cas waves his hand, “you decide.”

“Well,” Dean laughs, rubbing the back of his neck, “you’d still have to be something heroic, or how would we have met? You still need to save me.”

“Obviously.” Cas says in an amused tone. 

“So… a police officer? A military man? A firefighter? And EMT? A doctor?” 

“I did have to put your guts back together.”

“So Doctor.” Dean nods, frowning in thought.

“What about my name?” Cas asks.

“Religious parents. Next.”

“Your job?” Cas prompts.

“Ummmm, I dunno.” Dean shrugs. 

“What about something to do with cooking.” Cas prompts, leaning an elbow against the table. “You seem to enjoy cooking. And you’re food is always very good, even for me.”

Dean smiles at the praise. “But then how would we have met? Cooks and bakers don’t really get into a Guts-Becoming-a-Smoothie Situations.”

“Ok, you worked at a family owned business- Ellen’s. On the way home you tried to break up a confrontation between two patrons. It escalated and you ended up in mine and the hospitals care.”

“Oooo, you’re getting into this.” Dean smiles, taking another sip of his beer. “What else?”

“Sam. How does he fit in?” Cas asks, he’s smiling now. _(Like he didn’t just leave Dean. Like Dean didn’t have to beg him to come home.)_

“Lawyer. Graduated from Stanford.” Dean says, like it’s obvious. “Married, two kids and a dog. We go over every year for Thanksgiving and Christmas.”

“That’s sweet of him and his wife.” Cas has a dopey, stupid (read: love stricken) look seared into his features. “You think about this often?”

Dean shrugs. “His ‘being happy’ kinda had to play into my dream world. Micheal knew that.”

A second of silence, then Cas picks up his plate. “Thank you, Dean.”

“Don’t mention it.” Dean says, Cas drops his scraped plate into the sink. “Oh, and Cas?”

“Yes?” 

“Wanna watch a movie? Your choice.” _(He means more than that. Cas can see that, right? Do you forgive me? Can I fix this? Are we ok?)_

Cas is stalled in the doorway, he turns back over his shoulder. “Of course.”

**Author's Note:**

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